


Pictures of You

by Laruna8



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Burn the Evidence, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Relationship, Greg Is a Good Detective, I'm Really Bad At Crackfics, M/M, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft is a Femme Fatale, Mycroft is a Sex God, Mycroft's Past, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Secret Agent Mycroft, project incubus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 15:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13790979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laruna8/pseuds/Laruna8
Summary: Christ. Greg thought, looking down at the picture. He could feel his cheeks burning slightly as his eyes traced over the photo. As silly as it was, he almost felt like he had interrupted a private moment between this younger Mycroft and the unknown person taking the picture.Mycroft is busy on holiday and Greg uncovers a box containing a secret about his past.What exactly is Project Incubus?





	Pictures of You

     The dust in the sprawling attic of the Holmes estate hung heavy in the too hot air. Golden light of a late autumn’s afternoon poured through the window, pudding on the dusty floor. Greg had been up there for over an hour, mostly just exploring through generation after generation’s worth of forgotten treasures; even he couldn't remember what he had come up to look for in the first place. Besides, he had plenty of time and nothing particularly pressing to do for once. Mycroft was busy in the study; even on holiday he usually ended up spending at least a couple of hours a day making sure that the world was still turning.

     Greg was coming up to some of the more modern items, leaving steamer trunks of moldering furs behind in favor of neatly labeled cardboard boxes. One smallish carton in particular caught his eye, almost hidden behind a much larger box reading ‘Sherlock’s Lab Notes- 1995’. Pulling it out, Greg brushed off the heavy film of dust as he inspected the plain brown cardboard. There were no markings on the outside, and the carton itself was slightly smaller than a shoebox. In fact, there was nothing particularly remarkable about it at all besides for the haphazard way it had been shoved behind the other neatly organized boxes.

     It took only a moment for Greg to give into the temptation to open the box. He half expected to find a long forgotten experiment, or maybe some old tat from when the brothers were kids. What he wasn’t expecting to find was a stack of photos of his partner in various states of undress. It didn't look like Mycroft could have been much older than 25 when the pictures were taken. As he flipped through the photographs one by one, he could feel his mouth dropping open with shock.

     Several different pictures caught his eye. The first was a picture of Mycroft, thoroughly debauched with hair disheveled and tie hanging undone over his unbuttoned shirt. A cigarette hung from his fingertips and a small sensual smile teased at his lips as he peered at the camera through long eyelashes. _Christ._ Greg thought, looking down at the picture. He could feel his cheeks burning slightly as his eyes traced over the photo. As silly as it was, he almost felt like he had interrupted a private moment between this younger Mycroft and the unknown person taking the picture.

     After a moment he flipped to the next picture. This one showed several men relaxing out on the beach with oil slicked skin shining in the sun. Sand clung to perfectly fit bodies as they laughed together. Mycroft was in the center of the group, one hand hooked around the waist of a short man with brown hair and tanned skin as the other rested possessively on the shoulder of a taller man with sandy gold hair and twinkling blue eyes. He looked genuinely happy, there among his friends with the sun glinting fire in his auburn hair.

     Greg had never seen pictures of Mycroft like this, he realized suddenly. Even as a young man, every picture he had seen showed a quietly self-possessed young Mycroft; always dressed immaculately for any occasion. That idea was so far removed from the laughing boy on some foreign beach that if Greg wasn’t already intimately familiar with Mycroft, he might not have realized they were the same person at all.

     The next picture showed the same group of men, now fully dressed in what appeared to be a tactical uniform. They stood at attention, shoulder to shoulder in a row together. _So, not just friends then._ Greg mused. Mycroft had started out with MI6, he knew, maybe this had been his team?

 

     The photo after that was a portrait style headshot of Mycroft in his uniform. He looked sharply at the camera, beret perched smartly on his brow as a faint smirk played around his lips.  It was an expression that Greg knew well, though admittedly on a face about fifteen years older. Mycroft always did like it when someone was stupid enough to underestimate him.

     Following that, Greg found several pictures of Mycroft with various men. They were all older than Mycroft; each was almost uniform with their grim smiles and stiff postures, though it didn't look like he was in any of them with the same man twice. In comparison Mycroft was young and attractive, clothes always perfectly chosen to show off his best features. Mycroft was always touching whichever man was in the picture; in every single picture he was smiling and flirting, pressing suggestively against him. In one shot Mycroft was even sitting in the lap of a rather round man with a thick mustache, whispering into his ear. “What the fuck.” Greg muttered to himself as he stared down at the stack of pictures.

     “Indeed.”  The deep voice spoke suddenly into his ear, close enough to feel hot breath. Greg startled hard; pictures flew across the room as he jerked around to face the man who had snuck up behind him.

     “Good God Mycroft.” Greg swore as he tried to get his heart rate back under control. “You know I hate it when you do that.”

     Mycroft hummed noncommittedly as he bent to pick up one of the pictures near his foot. Greg reddened slightly as he realized that it was the picture of the boys laughing on the beach. “I had rather hoped to forget about these.” Mycroft murmured as he stared down at the picture with an odd look on his face. “I always meant to burn them but I never did quite get around to it. After all,” he added, looking up at Greg with a lightly sardonic smile, “who would ever be wandering around in the attic?”

     Greg rubbed the back of his head with a little laugh “Well, what can I say?” he eventually offered. “Don’t get involved with a detective if you don't want them to find dusty parcels in the back of abandoned attics.”  Mycroft snorted lightly as he bent to help Greg gather more of the photos from the dusty corners. “Why would you want to burn these anyway? Who were these people?”

     It was quiet for a few moments but as they placed the last of the pictures in the box, Mycroft finally answered him. “Project Incubus. Technically it was declassified several years ago but we haven’t exactly made it well known. I’m sure you understand why.”

     “What did you do?”  Greg asked as Mycroft firmly pressed the lid onto the box and tucked it under his arm, completely dismissing the dust that it was leaving on his otherwise immaculate grey suit.

      “Mmm.” Mycroft hummed as he walked to the door and held it open for Greg to pass though. “Legwork mostly.”

     “Yeah?”

     “The old song and dance really; get close, get your information, eliminate the target.” Mycroft shrugged. “Standard.”

     “Right.” Greg nodded, understanding dawning. “Did it for long, did you?”

     Mycroft continued down the hall, obviously heading back towards his study and leaving Greg to trail behind. “For a few years, yes.” Mycroft pulled up short at the door, turning to eye Greg warily. “I was one of their more successful operatives.”

     Reaching forward Greg reached around Mycroft to open his study. “That must have been difficult. I’m surprised they let you keep pictures.”

     “Obviously they were unaware of the photographs.” Mycroft replied drily as he walked through the door. “It was quite stupid of me to keep them really; not sure what I was thinking.”

     They stopped just in front of the large fireplace, staring into the flames together as Mycroft’s fingers tapped against the smooth cardboard of the box. After a few moments he reached inside and pulled out one photo, looking at it for a long time before placing it carefully into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

Mycroft turned to look at Greg. “Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?” Greg asked, looking steadily at Mycroft. “That you did your job?”

“Most people would be uncomfortable, knowing that their significant other had been involved with something like this.” Mycroft pointed out, fingers tightening on the box slightly.

“Most people aren’t involved with the English Government My.” Greg leaned forward, reaching up to press a quick kiss to the other man’s lips. “Don't be ridiculous, this changes nothing.”

 “I’m not ashamed of my past. I simply prefer to let it stay where it belongs.” Mycroft spoke more to himself than to Greg before to toss the rest of the box directly into the flames.  The dry paper burned quickly and soon the only evidence that the pictures had ever existed at all was ash, and a single hidden shot of a group of boys laughing on a beach.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Mycroft is a Secret Agent in the Seduction Department, and Lestrade Finds Out
> 
> So my friend challenged me to write a crackfic with this prompt. As you can see, it didn't quite turn out the way that any of us thought it would. 
> 
> Hopefully You enjoy it, but either way I appreciate you giving it a try and would absolutely love it if you could leave me a comment telling me if you loved it, hated it, or somewhere in between. Constructive criticism is always always appreciated.


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